


Song for You

by Angeltiny13



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Help, Idiots in Love, Idols, Kim Hongjoong is Whipped, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Moon, Park Seonghwa is Whipped, Secret Relationship, Tags Are Hard, just a tiny bit of Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24640018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angeltiny13/pseuds/Angeltiny13
Summary: Hongjoong couldn’t believe it. Seonghwa was supposed to be the neat one, the one who had it together. Hongjoong never thought he’d be the one to think first of their image, to make sure they never got caught doing what they were just doing. He never thought a secret song would turn into a secret…thing. He didn’t know what to call it yet. He just knew that it was undeniably, irrevocably dangerous.orHongjoong finds out Seonghwa's been trying to write lyrics, but they're not at all about who he thinks they are.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 9
Kudos: 175





	Song for You

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! This is kind of a prequel to 'Sweater Weather' but you definitely don't have to have read that before reading this. Enjoy!

It was common knowledge that Seonghwa was a bit of a neat freak and Hongjoong was every bit the opposite. It wasn’t that Hongjoong was intentionally messy per se; he was just forgetful, busy mind always running a mile a minute. As soon as he finished one project it was on to the next schedule or practice or studio. There was no time to make sure everything was in its place before moving from one responsibility to the next, or so he tried to convince Seonghwa.

So, Hongjoong was surprised to come back to the dorm early one night and find a mess on the desk they shared. A small hill of crumpled notebook paper led from the desk to a larger pile in the trash bin. He had been out all day and the papers hadn’t been there the day before, so they weren’t his. What had Seonghwa been up to that he’d been so careless to not clean up after himself?

Hongjoong went over to the desk, picked up one of the paper balls, tried to smooth it out. Sure enough, he recognized Seonghwa’s elegant handwriting in deep blue ink. The older man really pissed him off sometimes with how perfect he was. He scanned the words—some were aggressively crossed out, some were circled and directed elsewhere with arrows. Little doodles of stars littered the corners. _Cute._

The top of the page read _Songs for You_.

“Hongjoong?”

Hongjoong jumped, dropping the paper. He turned to find a freshly showered Seonghwa standing in the doorway whose eyes were just as round with surprise as his own. “He— Hey,” Hongjoong managed, hoping he didn’t look as guilty as he felt. Truthfully, Hongjoong wasn’t sure if he should even feel guilty, but if Seonghwa’s flushed face was anything to go by, he should probably step away from the desk at least. So, he did.

“What’s all this?” Hongjoong asked, trying to inject some levity into his tone.

Seonghwa snapped out of whatever stunned daze he was in and hurried over to the desk. He slid all the papers off the surface and into the trash despite it already being full. He pressed down on the small mountain, tied the bag off. He paused and Hongjoong thought it looked like he was considering just chucking it out of their window right then and there. Instead, Seonghwa stood and brushed past Hongjoong to his dresser.

Hongjoong blinked. The words, “Were you writing lyrics?” came out of his mouth before good sense could stop him.

Seonghwa dug through his drawer until he found a black t-shirt and slipped it over his head.

Hongjoong suppressed an ill-timed laugh. He certainly wasn’t making fun of his friend. It was just that Seonghwa was almost always so cool-headed and unbothered. Of course, the younger members tested that patience at any given opportunity, but he remained as mild as he could despite their antics. He’d been a lot more easily flustered lately, though. Hongjoong continued, “You don’t have to share, but it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Seonghwa finally turned and looked at Hongjoong. His wet black hair stuck to his forehead. It was getting long again, nearly covering his eyes. His brows dipped and Hongjoong worried a bit with how uneasy and stripped he looked. His tense shoulders lowered, and he sighed, as if resigning to some secret conflict.

Seonghwa was easy to read usually, but that didn’t necessarily mean Hongjoong could comprehend every page. Hongjoong wasn’t too proud to admit that he was oblivious, at times so deep in his own chaos that he had to remind himself to come up for air and look around every so often. Seonghwa was usually the one to drag him out, but apparently Seonghwa had been busy under his own dark ocean.

“Do you…” Hongjoong tried, “Do you want to talk about it?” He sat on the edge of the desk and waited for his friend to stop acting like a stranger.

“Not really,” Seonghwa admitted. He rubbed the back of his neck, studied the floor. He looked up, meeting Hongjoong’s watchful stare. Leaning against his dresser, he gripped the edge. “It’s just…they’re just scraps, pieces of things.”

Hongjoong nodded and listened, still waiting, while Seonghwa found the words.

“None of it really makes sense or fits together. The words just come sometimes, but today I tried putting them together,” he intertwined his fingers, then made a tangling gesture, “and just ended up frustrated.” He threw his hands down, exasperated. “I feel like a mess,” he mumbled.

“You are a mess, Hwa,” Hongjoong said, endeared by how shy Seonghwa was being. “But it’s not a bad thing, or something to hide.” Always the pillar, always the immovable center. Hongjoong guessed he too had his moments of uncertainty. They all did, but it was one thing to know and entirely another to see.

Seonghwa nodded to himself as if mulling over Hongjoong’s words.

Despite the high winds, Hongjoong went out on a ledge. “Do you want to try making a song?” He couldn’t help himself. He didn’t want Seonghwa to throw what may be a gift away, to let his doubts keep him from ever trying again.

Seonghwa started to object, waving frantic hands in front of him.

“We don’t have to tell or show anyone, and we can delete it right after, if you want,” Hongjoong assured him. “It’ll be our secret, just for fun, no pressure.”

Seonghwa toyed with the hem of his shirt.

“Just think about it.” Hongjoong went over to his own dresser to grab his towel, a clean change of clothes. He’d leave Seonghwa to his thoughts, content to let the man take as long as he needed.

After his shower, they talked about their day until the exhaustion caught up and quieted both their voices to sleepy whispers and then to soft snores. 

When Hongjoong woke the next morning, the full trash bin had already been emptied and replaced with a new bag. He thought, a bit mournful, that that was the end of the matter.

***

Hongjoong cleared his throat and tried the scale again as his fingers glided across black and white keys. He stopped, crossed a few words on his open notebook out, scribbled some notes in the margins, made a few clicks on the music program on his screen. He tried again, desperately reaching for the frayed edges of a feeling he couldn’t quite name; it felt sweet, scary, fascinating, worrying. The feeling had settled in his gut for some time now, dense and painfully present. He hadn’t known what to do with it, so he sat at his keyboard and played a few notes. The melody flowed out in hesitant stops and starts, like a flickering candle, like choppy ocean waves.

He dropped his head to the keys, creating a dismal tune that echoed in the small space.

A knock at the door interrupted him before he spiraled. “Come in,” he called, not bothering to lift his head or turn to see who it was.

“Oh, I can come back later.”

Hongjoong sat up. “Wait, Hwa,” he rushed. “You’re fine. What’s up?”

Seonghwa kept his hand on the doorknob, chewing his bottom lip, as if contemplating if he really should come back later… or never. That’s when Hongjoong noticed the crinkled papers in his other hand. Seonghwa noticed Hongjoong noticing, realizing his window of escape closing all too quickly. However, Hongjoong stayed quiet to let him decide if he’d stay or go.

They had finished practice about an hour ago. Hongjoong went to his studio straight after as usual, telling the guys he’d see them back at the dorm. He left so quickly that he wouldn’t have seen Seonghwa stay behind. Had he been hovering outside his door all that time?

Seonghwa cleared his throat. “I…thought about what you suggested.”

It had been weeks since Hongjoong came across Seonghwa’s secret, weeks since he’d suggested that he not throw it away. Because of how busy their schedules were, Hongjoong had almost forgotten, but he was so glad Seonghwa didn’t. Hongjoong tried to quell his excitement, keep it in small, manageable doses so he didn’t scare him away. “And?”

“And,” Seonghwa took a deep breath, “I think I want to try.”

Hongjoong smiled wide. “Well, bring in a chair. Let’s get to work.”

For the first time, Seonghwa smiled back, nodded. He went to grab a chair from the unoccupied studio next door. Once settled, he hesitated a moment before handing his papers to Hongjoong. Some were torn out notebook papers, others were memo pages from the waiting rooms of broadcast stations they’d been to in the past.

Hongjoong combed over each word carefully, acutely aware of Seonghwa’s nervous stare as he waited for him to say something, anything. After a while, Seonghwa’s leg started bobbing, but he pressed a hand to his knee to stop it. Hongjoong knew the feeling well, especially when he first started learning under Eden. Having confidence that what you have to say is worth listening to is a high hurdle to overcome and nothing at all to make light of. Of course, over time, whenever Hongjoong had an idea for a melody or lyrics, the urge to bury it had subsided and he didn’t want to throw up as often before presenting said ideas to Eden. He wanted that for Seonghwa too.

“These are nice,” he said finally.

“Nice?” Seonghwa said, still anxious.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound dismissive,” he hurried to reassure him. “They’re sweet, sincere, open. Like it doesn’t come off as cheesy. I believe you when you say…,” Hongjoong scanned the page for an example, “ _I never loved the night until you were my moon_.” He looked up to find Seonghwa furiously blushing. He found it adorable but also a bit disarming with how Seonghwa was looking at him. Hongjoong coughed and went back to scanning the pages, feeling the tips of his own ears heat up. “Okay, well, we can get started,” he said, spinning his chair to face his desk again then scooting to the right to make room for Seonghwa.

Seonghwa rolled his chair over. “Where exactly do we start?”

“We’ll keep the structure basic, take some of your favorite lines or lines that have a common theme, come up with some connecting lines and boom—a song! Easy.”

Seonghwa raised an incredulous brow. “That easy, huh?”

“No,” Hongjoong admitted, laughing. “It’ll take time, but there’s no deadline, so we can take as long as we want, okay?”

Seonghwa nodded. “Okay.”

They worked well into the night, eventually abandoning the chairs to sit cross-legged on the floor, papers spread out all around them. Over the weeks, the more they got into the groove of things, the more Hongjoong saw Seonghwa’s familiar calm nature return. Hongjoong couldn’t help the joy that bubbled inside him, knowing he’d been a small but significant part of that.

It was odd, really. To open up his world, that had so long been occupied by a population of one. He was never lonely, but the company was welcome and a hell of a lot more fun. The nights weren’t as long and sometimes they would set Seonghwa’s song aside after they’d reached their limit and Seonghwa would ask to hear what Hongjoong was working on.

Hongjoong hesitated until Seonghwa pinned him with a smirk and pointed out how hypocritical it’d be for him to not share after getting Seonghwa to. He played him some drafts from weeks ago, fragments of late night, caffeine-induced inspirations. Seonghwa sat quiet, amazed, letting Hongjoong ramble on and on about technical terms and intricacies he couldn’t quite keep up with. Regardless, he asked the occasional question which would send Hongjoong on another long rant.

One night, during one of his spiels, Hongjoong stopped short. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Seonghwa straightened his posture, blinking out of his daze. He shook his head, a soft smile still playing on his lips. “You love music a lot.”

“I mean, yeah, we all do.” Hongjoong shrugged. The feeling in his gut grew heavier. He focused on twirling the pen between his fingers instead of Seonghwa’s eyes on him.

“Mm mmm,” Seonghwa disagreed, “You’re different.”

Hongjoong didn’t know what to say or do with himself. He kept twirling. Seonghwa’s words sounded so sincere, so earnest, just like his lyrics. Suddenly, his spacious studio felt more like a closet. They sat against opposite walls, but if Hongjoong stretched his legs out he could nudge Seonghwa’s knee with his foot. He stood.

“Should we finally start recording?”

It was Seonghwa’s turn to be caught off-guard. He stammered something about being tired or hungry or it being late.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong interrupted, crossing his arms, “You’ve been putting it off for weeks. The lyrics are finished, the production’s almost there. I can’t work my magic without your voice.”

“I know,” he admitted, looking defeated. “It’s just…”

“Different?”

Seonghwa exhaled a quiet, “Yeah.”

Of course it was. It was one thing to sing, knowing you’d be backed up by seven others and entirely another to step out by yourself, nothing but you and the music. And sometimes the music felt too deep, too wide a cavern to fill with your voice alone. “We can try as many times as you want. You know I have no issue staying up or rerecording until it’s perfect,” Hongjoong laughed at himself, “but we’re not trying for perfect, we’re just trying.”

“Okay, but don’t look at me,” Seonghwa said, standing to take his seat by the mic.

“You have my word.” Hongjoong put up his right hand and crossed an x over his heart.

Seonghwa shook his head, pushing down a giggle. He did a few vocal exercises before putting the headphones on and giving Hongjoong a thumbs up.

Dedicated to keeping his promise, Hongjoong was perfectly content with just listening. His eyes fluttered close, as he got lost in Seonghwa’s velvet voice. When they first debuted and Seonghwa was insecure about his inexperience, it took everything in Hongjoong not to take him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. Over time, of course, he grew more comfortable and confident with his skills, but old demons are understandably hard to kill.

“Sorry, can we start over?” Seonghwa asked.

“Y—Yeah,” Hongjoong started, after coming back from the spell Seonghwa put him under. He made a few edits, keeping his eyes trained on the computer screen, then clicked to start the track over.

Seonghwa began singing again and it was now that Hongjoong listened to the words. Seeds that lied dormant so long sprouted. The feeling in his stomach sharpened. He’d never asked because he’d just assumed it was a song for the fans, but maybe… _No, don’t be stupid._

“—joong,”

“Huh?” Hongjoong met Seonghwa’s confused gaze, his round eyes bright and questioning.

“We can stop for the night, if you want.”

“No, no, it’s fine, sorry.” Hongjoong busied himself with the program, saving the take.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said, that parental tone tinting his voice, “what is it?”

“I’m hungry,” Hongjoong announced, maybe too loudly, pushing away from the desk. “Are you hungry?” He went to grab his jacket.

“Joong-ah.” Seonghwa placed a hand on his shoulder, gently turning the shorter man around.

 _Oh no_ , Hongjoong thought, as Seonghwa’s eyes caught his. He swallowed, hoping the jacket he held hid how his hands shook. A long, tangled string of _oh no_ ’s wrapped around his brain and tightened until he couldn’t form a coherent thought let alone words. He knew what the feeling in his gut was, what it had been for a while now. He didn’t even want to admit it in his head, but he knew it as sure as he stood in front of Seonghwa. 

“You look sick,” Seonghwa said, placing the back of his hand against Hongjoong’s forehead.

At this point, Hongjoong was almost certain Seonghwa was messing with him. How could he not be? Hongjoong was always the oblivious one but Seonghwa could be giving him a run for his money. “I told you,” he stepped out of Seonghwa’s reach, “I’m hungry.”

“Okay,” Seonghwa relented. “We’ll stop by the convenience store on the way home.” He grabbed his own jacket and they left the company building, shivering like leaves in the cool night air.

The walk felt excruciatingly long as Hongjoong begged his racing thoughts to slow down and be quiet. The streets were quiet for the late hour, so there wasn’t much to distract himself with. Nope, all he had were his thoughts and the keen awareness of Seonghwa beside him. He wished he could go back to being ignorant, but a small, sassy voice in his head quickly called him out on that lie. He and Seonghwa were friends and already spent a good deal of time together. Hell, they shared a room, so why did Hongjoong’s stomach twist at the thought of more. What more could there be? He stole a glance at Seonghwa’s sharp profile, eyes traveling the slope of his nose down to his lips— Hongjoong stopped before his mind could travel down that dark alley.

They made it to the store just thirty minutes before it closed. Seonghwa held the door open for Hongjoong, ducking in after him, both apologizing to the cashier as they passed. Hongjoong grabbed a bag of chips, while Seonghwa picked up a strawberry yogurt parfait. Despite his inner freak out, Hongjoong had to laugh at how predictable the two of them were. They paid for their snacks and continued on their way to the dorm.

Just to have something to do and not look like a liar, Hongjoong popped open the chips and stuffed his face.

Seonghwa snickered behind his hand. “I guess you were hungry.”

Hongjoong just gave an affirmative grunt between mouthfuls. A large hand rested on top of Hongjoong’s head and ruffled his hair. Hongjoong’s shoulders shot up instinctively. “Hey, quit.” He hoped his tone came off joking and not at all like he’d collapse if Seonghwa touched him again. He was grateful for the dark, since he was sure his face was flushed deep.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself,” he said, voice soft and steady.

“Weirdo,” Hongjoong mumbled, stuffing another handful of chips in his mouth.

They walked a while, before Seonghwa spoke up. “The moon’s nice tonight.”

Hongjoong scrunched his nose up. “That was painfully cheesy, Hwa,” he teased.

“I know.”

“Good thing you don’t write lyrics like that, though I don’t think the fans would mind either way.”

Seonghwa hummed.

Hongjoong peaked at him through his periphery. Why was he being so awkward all of a sudden? It unnerved him. Seonghwa turned, catching Hongjoong staring. He stopped walking, causing Hongjoong to do the same. His lips quirked up. Reaching out, he took Hongjoong’s chin in his right hand and brushed crumbs from the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

“The song’s not for the fans,” he said, swiping his thumb across Hongjoong’s bottom lip, a ghost of a touch.

Hongjoong swallowed. Knowing the answer, he asked the question anyway: “Who’s it for then?”

“You.” Seonghwa’s gaze dropped to his lips. “Is that okay?”

Hongjoong nodded as much as he could with Seonghwa holding his chin.

Seonghwa leaned down, whispered, “Is this?”

Hongjoong’s “Yes,” was but a chilled breath between them that made them both shiver. He doesn’t remember who closed the distance first, just the weight in his stomach subsiding and being replaced by a heat that warmed him from head to toe. God, kissing Seonghwa stoked a flame Hongjoong wasn’t sure he’d be able to control if they kept going. He wrapped his arm around Seonghwa’s neck, pulling him closer.

The older one moaned at Hongjoong’s frenzied desperation.

“I can’t believe,” Hongjoong started between kisses, “you chose now of all times to kiss me,” he nipped at Seonghwa’s bottom lip, “after I ate a whole bag of potato chips.”

Seonghwa laughed against his lips, pulling Hongjoong’s waist flush against him. “I couldn’t care less.” He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, licking inside Hongjoong’s mouth to prove his point.

 _Oh no,_ Hongjoong thought. He was absolutely in no way prepared for this Seonghwa. He pulled away, catching his breath and looking around. His heart pounded, both terrified and elated; it picked up double time when he looked back at Seonghwa who had the dopiest smile lighting up his entire face. He looked intoxicated and Hongjoong felt as much the way his head swam from how fast everything had shifted.

Their dorm was just at the end of the block, so Hongjoong tugged a deliriously happy Seonghwa the rest of the way. He couldn’t believe it. Seonghwa was supposed to be the neat one, the one who had it together. Hongjoong never thought he’d be the one to think first of their image, to make sure they never got caught doing what they were just doing. He never thought a secret song would turn into a secret…thing. He didn’t know what to call it yet. He just knew that it was undeniably, irrevocably dangerous and could cause a mess so big neither could recover from.

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up way longer than I thought it'd be, but who am I to deny a surplus of Seongjoong? Hope you enjoyed. Leave kudos and comments, let me know what you think. :)
> 
> I'm reaching the third act of my longer pirate au, so hopefully I can start posting that soon. Also, if you want to keep in touch, I'm over on Twitter mostly; I think I'm funny sometimes. So, yeah, until next time y'all!
> 
> Twitter: @angeltiny13


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